


Consideration

by phnelt



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is hung, M/M, PWP, Size Kink, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Topping from the Bottom, You heard it here first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22389925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: The water poured off of Jaskier, echoing as it fell back into the tub and Geralt’s eyes followed the path of the water down from Jaskier’s slight shoulders, to his scrawny waist, to his hips -- to the massive swinging cod he was carrying between his legs.Geralt felt like he had been cheated out of a secret, like he should have known that Jaskier was so endowed. It was somehow an injustice that they had been travelling together and Jaskier had kept this hidden from him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 98
Kudos: 1123





	Consideration

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I have ideas with like, plot. I've got one with fake dating and there was only one bed! But when I sit down to write, this is what comes out.

It wasn’t the first time Geralt had been in the same room while Jaskier had taken a bath, even though it was usually the other way around. But it was the first time Geralt had looked up when Jaskier had stood up, dripping, holding nothing but a small square of cloth. 

The water poured off of Jaskier, echoing as it fell back into the tub and Geralt’s eyes followed the path of the water down from Jaskier’s slight shoulders, to his scrawny waist, to his hips -- to the massive swinging cod he was carrying between his legs. 

Geralt felt like he had been cheated out of a secret, like he should have known that Jaskier was so endowed. It was somehow an injustice that they had been travelling together and Jaskier had kept this hidden from him. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt licked his lips. “Yes?” 

Jaskier noticed the direction of Geralt’s gaze and made a vague gesture with his hand holding the cloth. “Are you going to make an issue of this? I know some men have turned it into a contest and I see no need --” 

“Depends,” Geralt said, cutting him off. 

Thrown, Jaskier flicked his hair back. “Depends on what?” 

“On if you’re going to fuck me or not.” 

*** 

“I said fuck me, not feel me up.” Geralt was lying back on the bed, naked, while Jaskier stroked his hands over Geralt’s chest and thighs. 

“Hush, Geralt, my cock, my rules,” Jaskier said, distracted, while cupping Geralt’s pectoral muscle. 

“Could your cock, perhaps, find a sense of urgency?” Geralt growled. 

Jaskier huffed. “Alright,” he muttered, and then _left the bed_ to rummage in his pack. Geralt slammed his head into the mattress, more for the gesture, since the mattress was surprisingly well-stuffed. Geralt needed to do jobs for grateful lords more often. 

“Aha,” Jaskier said, smiling in triumph as he turned back holding a vial. “Spread your legs.” 

Sensing that this was the path to getting what he wanted, Geralt did what he was told. Jaskier prowled back over, his massive erection standing at attention between his legs. Geralt needed all of it inside of him immediately. 

But of course, Jaskier wasn’t going to give it to him. No, instead he was going to take his time coating his fingers in the oil and slowly tracing a circle around the rim of Geralt’s ass. 

Geralt spread his legs wider, a helpful hint. His knees were bent, and Jaskier fit between them easily. 

“It is unfair that you are this strong and this flexible.” 

Geralt spread them a little further, lifting a foot to gently pull Jaskier inwards -- a hint. “Sword fighting requires a range of movement, Jaskier.” 

“Well, thank your swordmaster for me, then,” Jaskier said and slid his index finger inside to the knuckle. 

The finger went in easy. “More,” Geralt demanded. 

“So impatient,” Jaskier said, pumping the finger in and out. “Remember --” 

“Your cock, your rules, I got it.” 

Jaskier smiled at him, eyes bright and Geralt vowed to be patient. 

Maybe Geralt could be more patient if Jaskier would _get a fucking move on._

Jaskier continued the movement and Geralt contemplated murder. 

“Jaskier --” 

Jaskier slipped a second finger inside, which was progress, but not nearly enough. Geralt let Jaskier have his fun for a few seconds before he decided it was enough. Clearly, if he wanted something done -- getting fucked -- he was going to have to do it himself. 

Which in this case meant flipping them over so Geralt was poised above Jaskier. 

The loss of the fingers was a bit of a wrench, but Geralt could work through it. Part of Witcher training was learning how to keep his eyes on the prize and Geralt could see it now, all of Jaskier’s glorious cock, the length and thickness of it inches and Jaskier pinned under him. 

Jaskier was blinking up at him, mouth slightly open. 

“You were taking too long,” Geralt chided. 

Before Jaskier could reply, Geralt reached behind himself to grip the base of Jaskier’s cock, positioned himself, and started to bear down -- hm. Maybe Jaskier had a point with all of that oil and fingers. 

Geralt realised he was panting, sweat pricking up at his temples and the small of his back. It was just that Jaskier was so thick, pressing into Geralt and demanding that he make room. Geralt worked the head inside of himself, determined, and then paused, breathing through it. 

Jaskier smirked up at him. “I told you --” 

Geralt twisted his hips, letting gravity and the oil help him along. It was too fast, too much burn and strain for a mere inch but so worth it for the way it made Jaskier groan. Geralt quirked his lips. Not so smug now. 

Some said Witchers didn’t feel fear, and sometimes Geralt felt that was true. He ran towards situations that many men quailed away from. But if that was the case then Geralt didn’t miss the emotion. A normal man might have been afraid to take on all that Jaskier had to offer, and in another life that could have been Geralt, and he would have missed out on this, the perfect feeling of stretch and knowing more was to come. 

Geralt experimented a little, rocking from side to side, leaning forwards and back, not really pulling any more of Jaskier into himself, just trying to work his way into the feeling. It reminded him of trying on new clothes, testing the tolerances and the feel of it. Jaskier felt hot inside of him, pressing insistently outwards and inwards. If Geralt focused, he fancied he could hear the heartbeat of him, travelling from Jaskier’s heart downwards and up inside Geralt. 

Geralt let his eyes slip closed as he fell into the rhythm of Jaskier’s heartbeat, syncing it to his own. With every beat he relaxed a little, letting himself slip ever so slightly dowards, the barest amount at a time. 

“For the love of --” Jaskier bit off the last word. Geralt’s eyes snapped open, looking down his nose to where Jaskier was gripping the mattress, head thrown back so hard the tendons were standing out. 

“What?” Geralt growled, feeling himself tense, reminding himself all over again that he was stuffed, his body attempting to clench up and stretched inexorably around Jaskier’s cock. 

Jaskier’s hips thrust up, driving him deeper, and Geralt gasped. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Jaskier said, releasing a shaky hand from the mattress to pat at Geralt’s side unevenly. 

Geralt frowned. 

“I’m not fragile.” 

Jaskier attempted to glare, but the hectic flush on his cheeks undermined the impression. “Did anyone say you were? Did I? No! Because no one would ever -- there’s something called being polite, clearly you’ve never heard of it.” Jaskier huffed, letting his head flop down onto the bed. 

Polite, huh? Geralt could be polite. Polite was about showing consideration to others, which in this situation Geralt felt fairly confident meant fucking Jaskier’s brains out. 

Geralt had been playing around before, but all of that play had been for a reason. Every dick was different, especially when they were inside his ass, and had to be finessed accordingly. Jaskier’s dick required a specific touch, and Geralt had figured out what it was. 

He braced his hands behind him on Jaskier’s shins and simply drove down. It was all about leverage, and finding the right fulcrum, with those two ingredients, Geralt could dominate anything, including Jaskier’s monstrous cock. 

Geralt slid down inexorably until his ass made solid contact with Jaskier’s thighs. 

Geralt smiled down at Jaskier, all teeth. “I can be polite.” 

Jaskier just stared at him, mouth opening and closing; the flush had migrated down from his cheeks all the way down his chest. Geralt had never heard Jaskier be silent before, obviously Geralt had broken him. 

Geralt felt a pang, it was a shame, he’d gotten used to Jaskier’s prattle. 

_Oh well._ Geralt shrugged and rolled his hips forward, staying connected and _oh yeah,_ that was it. Geralt felt proper stuffed now, just the right side of his limit. 

It feels so good, in fact, that Geralt did it again. 

This snapped Jaskier into action. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hips and helped him along, nudging up just at the end, a sharp shock of sensation that punctuated the movement. 

“Welcome back,” Geralt said. 

“Hnng,” Jaskier replied. 

Geralt kept up the same smooth slow pace, enjoying every inch of Jaskier and keeping it all to himself. In an ideal world, he’d fuck like this for hours until even his enhanced thighs and belly felt the burn. Maybe he’d chug a potion and just get right back at it. 

But sooner than later, he felt his need build, a slow rising tide that demanded more friction, more speed, more of everything. 

He put it off, the frustration fueling the pleasure just like the bite of Jaskier’s fingertips against his hipbones, a grip that promised to take time to fade. 

“Geralt, please, I _have_ to fuck you.” Feebly, he tried to thrust up, but Geralt had him securely pinned.. 

He let Jaskier push up, just for a second, getting impossibly closer before Gerallt hooked his ankles on top of Jaskier’s and rising up on his thighs until he threatened to disconnect them altogether. It took ages to get high enough, Geralt had had him so deep. 

“Be good,” Geralt chided. 

“I’ve been so good, I swear.” The strain was back in Jaskier’s voice as he struggled against where Geralt had him pinned. 

Geralt thought about it for a second. 

Geralt slid back down, bringing them together. Jaskier’s thighs were radiating heat and Geralt realised how cold it had been when they were so far away. 

“No,” Geralt said, and starting stripping his cock, letting the melody of Jaskier cursing him out serenade him as he focused on his own pleasure. Every once in a while he let himself flex, just to really feel how Jaskier was pinned inside of him, a delectable pressure that drove him upwards. 

He was stroking himself how he liked, short and fast, and nearly startled when he felt a cool hand touch his balls. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow. 

“This is the only way I will get mine, correct?” Jaskier asked. “Let me help.” 

Geralt shrugged and took his hands away, waiting to see what Jaskier did next. He realised he’d been so focused on Jaskier’s cock he hadn’t taken the opportunity to look at the rest of him. 

Jaskier’s skin was smooth and unblemished, so pale that Geralt could see the veins glowing beneath his skin. Geralt wanted to trace the path of them with his tongue, create a map of Jaskier that he could taste. 

Jaskier snaked out a hand to grip Geralt’s cock, firmer than Geralt would have suspected given Jaskier’s lackadaisical approach to fucking so far. It was exactly what Geralt liked, and he let himself push forward into Jaskier’s hand. 

But he was never that good at self-denial so sooner than later he sighed and leaned forward. Jaskier felt Geralt bunching his muscles and started to ask “Whe--” which turned into a moan as Geralt batted Jaskiers hands away from his dick and lifted up, and up until Jaskier was barely inside of him again before slamming down. 

All the effort was in his thighs now, pistoning as he rode hard and long, strokes that punched the breath out of him on every path down, the feeling of coming home every time. 

He fell into his stride, panting a little as his body sang out with satisfaction at the friction. This was what he’d wanted all along, the zing up his spine, the rush of being stretched right to the limit, like the best type of fight. His body knew how to do this -- it wanted to do this. It wanted to know why they didn’t do this _all the time._

“Geralt -- Geralt, I,” Jaskier’s voice was high-pitched, threaded with a whine. 

Geralt stopped moving altogether, positioned high, thighs straining. “Don’t you fucking dare come,” Geralt growled. “Not til I’m done with you.” 

The whine turned into a whimper. 

Geralt thought about pulling off altogether, waiting until he could be sure Jaskier wouldn’t spill but again -- no self-control. And he was so close. It had been building in him, a tightness in his balls, a shortness in his breath and if he could just-- 

He picked up the pace, moving quickly now, grateful for the slickness of the oil, desperate to chase the horizon before Jaskier started to shake. 

Just -- a little bit more. 

With a final twist of his hips, Geralt came, a burst of light that started in his chest and rushed through his body, whiting out his vision and pulsing out of his cock. He felt his whole body ripple, shuddering through one spurt, then another, striping Jaskier from neck to navel. 

Just in time too -- Jaskier pushed up into Geralt, erratically, nudging against where Geralt was most sensitive inside and causing Geralt’s cock to twitch, a pull from inside that was almost painful. 

Geralt fell forward, groaning, catching himself on his hands at the last second. The motion brought himself close enough to Jaskier’s face that he could see every one of his freckles. 

“Hey,” Geralt said. 

“Hey,” Jaskier said back. Jaskier’s gaze was flicking down to Geralt’s lips and Jaskier’s own were red from being bitten. Geralt had the impulse to soothe the hurt away, somehow, and before he meant to, he leaned down to close the last remaining distance pressed their mouths together. 

It was soft, so soft in comparison to the force of their fucking and Geralt licked his way into Jaskier’s mouth, chasing the sweetness. 

Jaskier was big enough, even while softening, that there was no danger of him slipping out, so Geralt indulged himself, rubbing their chests together while he continued to explore Jaskier’s mouth. 

Geralt clenched a little, just to see what it felt like, and Jaskier groaned. 

“Does it hurt?” Geralt asked. 

Jaskier shook his head, fringe sticking to the sweat on his forehead. “Just be careful, or you’ll get me going again.” 

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Again?” 

“Oh no, I recognise that gleam, Geralt, do you really -- we’ll be here all night,” Jaskier babbled. 

Geralt rolled his hips. 

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment to your writer, or kudos a plenty. Comments are what keep me writing! Copying a line or saying you liked it brings a huge smile to my face.
> 
> Also, if you liked this, consider reblogging it on tumblr: [here](https://tmblr.co/ZD3Daw2nNj8Ft)


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